During my brief (but wonderful) stay at the Anima sanctuary, I was reminded again that the main luxury I will miss when civilization collapses will be my easily acquired hot tub baths, not just because I enjoy all of the physical sensations but also because I do a great deal of contemplating in the tub. It's as if sitting in hot water condenses my thoughts so that I'm able to see them more clearly, like the finger-writing we can do on a steamy bathroom mirror.
This morning, it occurred to me how strange it is to finally realize how hard I am on myself (after others have told me time and again that they notice) and to consider the reasons (in an attempt finally to break their hold on me)----especially since I can no longer believe that this stance serves me but only tears me down. This mental (as opposed to physical) self-flagellation isn't because one enjoys the pain but because one believes that the pain can be transformative and thus beneficial. Oh, how twisted. . .
Where did this thought pattern originate? Partly in patriarchy, partly in the Puritan-inspired work ethic of my grandparents (with whom I grew up closely), and partly in the morality I learned from Southern Baptists. It says that we can do good, but we mustn't take pleasure in or be recognized for the good we do. Good grief.
